Dario Urbanski emigrates to South Africa. There he runs an ostrich farm, builds a football stadium based on the model of his “Union” and almost on the side helps a village out of poverty.
If someone had predicted the Potsdam waiter’s apprentice Dario Urbanski that one day later in life he would own an ostrich farm at the southern end of the world, he would certainly have shown him the bird – someone other than the African racer. Years later, the Union Berlin fan would have taken his head if someone wanted to tell him that he would one day run a football stadium in the Karoo semi-desert in South Africa.
Back then, Dario Urbanski ran the “KSW” inns in Pirna, the gateway to Saxon Switzerland. He had a family, lived in his own home and had to watch a home game of his favorite club, 1. FC Union Berlin, in the “Alte Försterei” in Köpenick, barely 200 kilometers instead of the current 10,000 kilometers. The East German dropout attributes the drastic change to sheer coincidence – and that “a door has always opened” in his life. The now 58-year-old then regularly and fearlessly went through with his wife Carmen.
The two semi-desert inhabitants currently have to be contacted via Zoom: For 18 months, no more visitors have dared to go to the “ostrich nest” in Lategansvlei – although the South African nest of 350 souls has not yet reported a single Covid case. The pandemic has made the sociable Urbanski hermits, and they are currently suffering from a cold spell. Hardly more than zero degrees, no guests and to top it all off, unrest has been reported from other parts of the country. Enough to spoil the mood for others for good. “No, we don’t give up that quickly,” says Dario defiantly: “We still have a lot to do.”
And a lot behind it. A postcard idyll is depicted in the prospectus of the “Ostrich Nest”: between bare, sun-burned hills, a green soccer field shines with neat goals and a floodlight system. When you zoom in, a grandstand with the banner “Alte Fösterei 2” appears, and a stage is currently being built next to it, on which local pop stars or a gospel choir will appear. Not illustrated in the brochure is the group of more than twenty women who set up a sewing studio in the locker room of the “Iron” in Lategansvlei, and the village school, which Carmen and Dario helped to build toilets and a solar system for the first time. Almost by accident, the Urbanski turned their new home, the desolate Lategansvlei, inside out – with a social tourism project that they would never call that themselves.
Social engagement wasn’t in the cradle of the Urbanski – apart from the social responsibility of the waiter profession and the club life of the iron people. After the fall of the Berlin Wall, Carmen and Dario first selfishly savored their new freedom: Every six months they went on a major vacation trip, to the Dominican Republic, Morocco, Paris and Turkey it was South Africa’s turn. There happened what nobody foresaw: The Uranskis fell in love with the Cape.
Her visit to the ostrich farms in the Little Karoo also played a role: Since Dario’s father kept some of the strange birds on his meadow in Pirna, they have practically been part of the family. The idea came up to emigrate to the ostrich paradise together with their parents: After another trip, four Urbanski were thrilled.
For ten years, father and son ran their neighboring farms extremely successfully – at that time there was still good money to be made with the meat and hide of the birds. Until South Africa was hit by bird flu in 2004. The industry collapsed almost overnight. Dario was able to sell most of his ostriches just in time. With the proceeds, the new dropouts built two comfortable round houses, called them the “Ostrich Nest” and welcomed visitors – mainly from Germany, Switzerland and Austria.
The attraction of the guest farm was, of course, the birds that tend to bury their heads in the sand. It soon became clear, however, that Urbanski’s guests were at least as interested in village life in Lategansvlei. There they could see what bitter poverty means and how the desolate nest of 350 souls began to blossom. The first jolt occurred during the 2010 soccer World Cup, when Dario began to introduce the village youth to the basic rules of soccer on a gravel road. South Africa is considered to be the stronghold of rugby. At the Cape of Good Hope, balls are usually oval instead of round.
The gravel road, which was also sloping, was soon replaced by fallow land on Urbanski’s farm. Before the game, the athletes first had to remove stones – after the rain there were new ones. Even so, Dario managed to keep the ball going. He put teams together and organized friendly matches – all under the logo of his favorite club.
At some point, the news about the Eisernen at the other end of the world also reached Köpenick – and there, in addition to tears of emotion, triggered a storm of donations. The Urbanski were able to give the football field a lawn, erect the grandstand and install floodlights. Finally, the Iron South were equipped with impeccable equipment. “Even if we should lose,” jokes Dario. “We always get the award for the best-dressed team.”
The guests of the ostrich nest also took part in the new activities in Lategansvlei. No tour operator can offer better contact with the local population. Urbanski’s dropout project could have gone on forever: if the pandemic hadn’t come. Carmen hasn’t received a single booking for 18 months, and the guest farmers are gradually running out of breath financially. “What we need are finally positive stories from South Africa again,” says Dario. Here is one.
